


there's such a difference between us

by ThisJoyAndI



Category: Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Peter Pan Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 13:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5588719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisJoyAndI/pseuds/ThisJoyAndI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(and a million miles)<br/>Clarke, Bellamy, and an unexpected visit to Neverland. 'They both know she's lying. Clarke’s life in is Neverland, his in New York, and there is no reason for her to appear at his bedroom window ever again.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's such a difference between us

It is during the dead of night, the sky inky black and alight with stars, when he hears a loud rattle at his window. Bellamy sleeps lightly, he always has, so the noise wakes him far quicker than it really should, Octavia snoring soundly in the bed next to his. Half-awake and with curiosity pulsing through his veins he pushes himself upright, eyes bleary with sleep and unable to distinguish much of anything in the darkness of the room. He sits silently in his bed and waits, and after a few minutes he is certain that he was only dreaming, that there was no noise at all, his body desperate to return to sleep once more.  

His mind has almost managed to convince himself that it was only a dream, Bellamy lying back down and about to close his eyes when he hears it again – a sharp rattle at the bedroom window. And this time, with no curtains to cover the glass and his eyes wide open, Bellamy can quite clearly see the shape of a person hovering outside of the house… which doesn’t make any sense at all, seeing as their tiny two-bedroom flat is on the sixth floor.

He pushes back his covers, shivering at the loss of warmth almost immediately, and brushes a hand across Octavia’s brow as he passes by her bed, anxiety flooding his veins. Bellamy crouches down in front of the window, the flickering streetlights neon bright and police sirens faint in the distance, waiting, waiting, waiting, his breath fogging up the glass as he inhales sharply, heart pounding. He waits, but he sees nothing, the figure seemingly gone.

Mere seconds later he almost screams, almost falls straight down when the figure appears in front of him as suddenly as it had disappeared, but he remembers better than that, manages to catch himself before he falls, because Octavia is sleeping, and he cannot wake his sister, nor his mother, who has just finished a combined twelve hours of hard work at her two dismal paying, dead end jobs.

So he doesn’t scream and he doesn’t fall, but in retrospect he does something much, much worse – he eases the window up, the figure beaming at him. Her friendly grin somehow makes every lesson Bellamy’s been taught about ‘stranger danger’ fly straight out of his head, his hands working to ease the stubborn window up without a second thought. He’s far too preoccupied with the fact that the stranger can _fly_ , as in, like a bird, to worry about what his mother would do if she found out he’d been so stupid.

And there has to be a reason she sought this window out, chose to continue appearing at the glass until Bellamy permitted her entry. He doesn’t know what it might be, but there _has_ to be a reason. So he eases the window up, and the figure flies right in without pause, dressed in what appears to be foliage strategically placed to cover the essential. The figure’s skin is pale against the dark green of the leaves placed on her body, and Bellamy finds that he rather likes the contrast.

“Hello?” he murmurs, almost a question, head spinning as he watches the figure whirl and whirl around the room, far too quickly for his eyes to comprehend.

The figure stops her motions at the sound of his voice and flutters down to the ground, landing solidly on her feet next to him. “Hello,” she repeats, barely tall enough to reach Bellamy’s shoulder. He’d hit another growth spurt last month, meaning that his already let-out jeans had once again needed to be altered, with the let-out fabric still only just reaching his ankles. He’ll need new ones soon, shirts as well, but there just isn’t money. Living in the heart of New York drains what little money his mother earns at her jobs, and there’s barely enough money left over from paying rent for their shitty apartment to buy the necessities like food and medicine. They often have to restore to food banks and charities in order to make ends meet at the end of the month, the sympathy in the eyes of the workers churning Bellamy’s stomach rather than warming his heart.

“I’m Bellamy,” he says, holding out his hand. He figures there’s no harm in introducing himself, not when the girl is already inside his bedroom. She takes his offered hand warily, tenderly, her skin warm against his despite the chill of the night air that she’d only moments earlier been hovering in.

“Bellamy,” she murmurs, her mouth moving to form the word. He’s never heard a more wonderful sound, this shy repetition of his name.

Perhaps that is partly why he does not hesitate to shake Octavia awake and persuade her to accompany him, Clarke idly examining their meagre knick-knacks as he pleads with Octavia. Once he has finished his spiel, Octavia sleepily arches an eyebrow in questioning at him, but his sister says nothing, merely shrugs in agreement.

Clarke grins at them both, clapping her hands together.

A mere shimmer of what Clarke dubs ‘pixie dust’, her companion Raven shooting him a glare as he smiles at Clarke, and the trio are in the air, the window of Bellamy and Octavia’s room becoming smaller and smaller as they fly away. His heart pangs as they round another corner and he can no longer spot their apartment, but the guilt that settles in his stomach is quickly replaced with exhilaration and excitement as Clarke tugs on his hand and whoops with delight, cartwheeling in the air.

They shall be home soon enough, he tries to convince himself, speeding towards the bright light of the star Clarke is eagerly racing towards. Clarke does not seem the type to hold them against their will, so they shall be able to leave whenever they so pleased. And their mother shall never know they were gone. Clarke promised to take care of it all, and for some odd reason, even though he knows he shouldn’t, even though he doesn’t know her at all, he trusts her.

And then the white light of the star envelops him and Bellamy finds that he knows nothing at all.

\---

Neverland is a truly beautiful place, everything an island paradise, the likes of which Bellamy has only seen on television and read about in books, should be. Green forests merge with golden sand which leads to deep pools of crystal-clear blue water, the sun shining above them and the temperature always perfect, not too hot, but not too cold. As they fly above the forests, Clarke plucks him a ripe banana, Bellamy somewhat struggling to keep himself afloat and peel the fruit at the same time. Octavia rolls her eyes at him, but he still offers her half, the fruit tastier than its supermarket counterpart shall ever be.

Clarke leads them to a half-heartedly cleared spot in the forest, a tall tree proudly standing in the middle of the cleared patch. Bellamy eyes it with interest, for such a structure, with the tree seemingly entirely carved out in order for Clarke to live within it, seems impossible but yet intriguing all the same.

“Lost Boys!” Clarke yells, Raven echoing the cry, albeit far less quietly. Bellamy arches an eyebrow at her cry, but says nothing, Octavia similarly just as silent beside him, his sister entirely out of place in her dainty nightgown, a relic from their mother’s past. She holds on tight to a flower she plucked on the fly over to Clarke’s camp, a dainty purple thing that Bellamy thinks is entirely the essence of his little sister, with the daintiness of the flower disguising the prickly thorns that seem not to bother Octavia very much at all.

The cry is repeated over and over again, until there’s a cacophony of noise coming from the tree Clarke proudly told him was ‘home’, shrieks and exclamations whirling in the air. One by one, Clarke’s ‘Lost Boys’ stumble out of the tree, all clad in similar attire to their apparent leader. Clarke beams at the sight of them, even though their cheeks are unwashed and their nails presumably just as dirty. Is this what it means to be free, he wonders? Is cleanliness the price for such a magical life?

“So,” Clarke claps her hands together, “introductions! Everyone, this is Bellamy, and his sister Octavia. They’re going to be staying with us for a while, and I expect you all to make them feel as welcome as you felt when you first came here.”

This, Bellamy thinks, is particularly directed at Raven, the fairy fluttering above Clarke’s shoulder and blowing raspberries at him whenever Clarke isn’t looking. “You already know Raven,” she says, grinning at the fairy, who has donned a façade of innocence and quickly stopped tormenting Bellamy…at least, for the moment, “and myself, of course.”

“So really, the only people I have to introduce you two to are my Lost Boys. And here they are!” Clarke exclaims, hand outstretched and pointing towards the huddle of boys, the six figures ranging in height and age. “Lincoln, Miller, Murphy, Jasper, Monty and Wells,” Clarke rattles off, grinning.

The tallest one – Lincoln – steps forward to offer Octavia a blanket, guilt settling in Bellamy’s throat when he realises that his sister is shivering, has been since they landed on Neverland, and he hadn’t even noticed. Clarke skips towards to one of the boys – Wells – linking her arm with his and giggling at something he says. He watches them leave, Clarke and Octavia both, the remaining members of Clarke’s Lost Boys surrounding him, their noisy chatter melting into one incomprehensible mess. He grunts at their questions, arms folded over his chest, the energy drained out of him and Bellamy desperate for sleep.

But when Clarke looks over her shoulder, arm still linked with Wells’, smiling back at him, all of the unpleasantness within Bellamy subsides and he finds himself smiling back, following her into the treehouse she calls home.

\---

Time passes much differently in Neverland than it does in the real world. Bellamy works this out when the days never seem to end, the sun never seems to set. The constant sunshine throws his sleeping pattern off, and he becomes crankier and crankier with the lack of sleep, until Clarke throws a pouch of herbs at him and demands he drink them. In return he demands to know where they herbs came from, if they’re at all safe to consume, questions to which Clarke merely scoffs. He throws the herbs aside, crankily pulling up his blanket and trying to sleep.

His attempt fails, Murphy crowing in his ear to get up, and when Clarke knowingly looks at the pouch of herbs, he merely scowls at her.

It is only when Lincoln shares that the herbs come from Lexa, the leader of the tribe occupying the side of the island Clarke doesn’t, and that Lexa, although often selfish and prone to self-preservation, can be trusted, that Bellamy succumbs to his weariness and brews himself and Octavia a tea from the pouch. They sleep for what seems to be an eternity, curled up next to each other the way they do when it’s too cold at night and they’re both desperately seeking warmth, and when he awakes, eyes bleary and sweat beaded on his forehead, Clarke is smiling at him, her hand smoothing over his brow with a wet cloth.

“Sleep well?” she asks. He nods in reply, and finds that for some reason he doesn’t mind any more that time never seems to pass, not truly, for that means Clarke’s smile shall forever be as perfect as it is now.

\---

“Why did you leave?” he questions Clarke late one night, the Lost Boys all sound asleep, Octavia bundled up near Lincoln. He has half a mind to be worried about that, but all thoughts of shifting Octavia away fly out of his head as Clarke worries at her lip.

“It’s silly.” Clarke pulls her knees up to her chest as if she wants to fold into herself, wants to disappear. “You’d think I was silly for leaving.”

“I won’t,” he stresses, stretching his hand out to rub gentle circles on her shoulder, the way he does when Octavia is upset. “I’d never.”

Clarke inhales sharply, releasing her lip from her teeth. “I had it all,” she begins, brow furrowing as she speaks. “The perfect life. Great education, great parents, lots and lots of money and influence. Heaps of friends.”

“But?”

She offers him a weak smile. “But. Isn’t there _always_ a but?”

“I suppose there is. There definitely seems to be, in this case,” he replies, smiling back at her in a way he hopes is encouraging enough for Clarke to continue her story. He needs to know what happened to force her from such a seemingly perfect life, to make her flee the comforts of home for Neverland. He wants to know everything there is to know about her.

“My dad died,” Clarke finally says, and her voice shakes as she speaks. “He died, Bellamy, and my mom could have prevented it! Not just because she’s a doctor, but because she knew it was going to happen. She knew, and she did nothing. I overheard her talking about it late one night when I was supposed to be asleep. She knew, but she thought comforting me when I cried would be enough. She knew,” Clarke repeats, tears welling in her eyes, “And I couldn’t forgive her for that. I _can’t_ forgive her for that. So I left. I wandered around for a few days, quite aimlessly, until Raven found me and brought me to Neverland.”

“And Cage?” Bellamy questions, only slightly fearful that the mere mention of the man’s name shall be enough to summon him here, a smirk on his lips and his hook gleaming in the moonlight.

“Part of the group that planned my father’s death. He followed me to Neverland when my mother revealed that I was missing, thinking to kill me as well, but now that he’s here, he can’t leave.” Clarke chuckles softly, shaking her head. “The only way out of this limbo for Wallace is death, but he’s too cowardly to subject himself to such a fate, torturous though Neverland and my continued existence may be.”

Bellamy laughs, smiling at Clarke’s words. He stretches out his hand to her, and she gratefully takes it, Bellamy’s thumb rubbing soothing circles into her skin.

They sit in silent until Neverland comes to life once more around them, Clarke’s Lost Boys blinking as they awaken in the morning sun, Octavia’s smile as Lincoln helps her to her feet simultaneously both warming Bellamy’s heart and causing his fingers to twitch as he observes the pair. Octavia is his little sister, he has the right to be wary of any and all whom enter into her life. But he is to blame for introducing them, for he was the one to drag them on such an adventure, so he cannot be angry at her, not really.

At least she has the bravery to pursue what makes her happy, unlike him.  

\---

“Visit,” Bellamy murmurs, and he is almost ashamed at the way it sounds as if he is begging. _Almost._

Desperate to convince her, he adds, “Please.”

Clarke nods, quickly. “I will. As soon as I can.”

With that they embrace, a hug that is entirely too short and incapable of expressing what they both want to say. Sometimes actions do not say more than words, but the words catch in Bellamy’s throat and refuse to budge. He imagines it is similar for Clarke, for he has never known her to be as silent as she is currently, his arms wound tight around her waist.

They both know she’s lying. Clarke’s life in is Neverland, his in New York, and there is no reason for her to appear at his bedroom window ever again. The threat Cage posed has been extinguished, and that was the task Bellamy was meant to fulfil here in Neverland, standing beside Clarke. There is no reason for him to ever see her again, no matter how desperately wants such a moment to occur. Clarke shall stay forever as she is right now, youthful and lovely, whilst he will eventually age, wither and die.

Such is the way of life, and Bellamy bemoans such a tragedy, wholly aware that he is powerless to alter anything.

\---

To his utter surprise, Clarke does show up, albeit a few years later, on the very last night Bellamy shall spend in the place he’s called home since Octavia was mere months old. He’s due at college the next day, having put off his degree for a few years until he was sure Octavia was old enough to be left by herself whilst their mother works, Bellamy himself occupying himself with mundane work in order to be able to pay his way through college. He is restless, tossing and turning in a bed that for far too long has been too small for him, his fears and hopes for the future weighing down upon his chest, pinning him to the mattress.

But then he hears the rattle at the window, and it is as if he is as lightweight as the very first time Raven sprinkled her fairy dust over him and he took to the sky.

Bellamy barely registers leaving his bed and making his way to the window, his mind too focused on the thought of Clarke, of Clarke finally being here after he’d pled with her to return with him. It is an all-consuming thought, and his fingers open the window without pause, the cool night air a welcome balm to his flushed skin.  

“Clarke,” he murmurs, the girl in question placing a foot on the windowsill and stooping to enter the room. Her hair is longer than it was the last time he saw her, Clarke herself slightly taller, but she is nonetheless the very same, exactly how he has remembered her these last three years.

“Hello Bellamy,” she replies, beaming up at him. “I hope it isn’t too late to visit.”

He shakes his head rapidly, heart pounding and Clarke’s smile only widens. She steps forward and wraps her arms around him, his head neatly fitting on top of hers and her breath warm against the exposed skin of his neck.

“Never too late.”

Clarke grins against his skin, her hair smelling of sunshine.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! 
> 
> I wanted to get this up ASAP, so sorry for any mistakes. I'll read over this again when I'm not drunk/about to go out, haha. I hope everyone has/is having a great New Year, I know 2015 was great in many aspects for me (much of the time I spent on this site, for example) but I'm 100% sure that 2016 will be even better - and hopefully, will include many more Bellarke fics, I've missed writing these guys. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you all enjoyed, and I'll be sure to see you in two thousand and freaking sixteen! <3


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